


When Hogs Fly

by PunnyMcGee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, Divorce, Divorced Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, F/F, F/M, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Holyhead Harpies Captain Ginny Weasley, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Professor Neville Longbottom, Quibbler Journalist Luna Longbottom, This only follows canon to a point, but it's mainly canon-divergent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunnyMcGee/pseuds/PunnyMcGee
Summary: Sodden with repressed grief from past losses and his divorce with Ginny, Harry is tired of being an Auror. With a little convincing from his two best friends, he's decided the best course of action is to retire.Now, unemployed and a stay-at-home, single dad, Harry is lost for what to do next. That is until James writes him home that they're still struggling to find a permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.





	When Hogs Fly

Mr. Potter was glad to say that he was perfectly happy living a peaceful life, thank you very much. Then again, anything is peaceful after being on the run from one of the most powerful Dark Lords in Wizarding history hunting Horcruxes for a year or vanquishing the Dark Lord himself. One would say that seeking a career as an Auror would be a rather tame line of work in comparison, but that’s what he did. Settling down in a nice house on the edges of a quiet suburb and having three children only sealed the deal, and opened the doors to a very relaxed and ordinary life.

At least, that’s what Harry would like to believe, but no amount of peace and prosperity he attained on the outside could ever compete with the building grief and turmoil that he struggled to suppress in order to keep this hard-won, happy lifestyle.

It had started out alright, of course. Harry had defeated Lord Voldemort in the Great Hall of Hogwarts for all to witness, killed by his own curse when it rebounded and dying like any other man. That’s all he ever was, really. Underneath all that hate and hunger for power and control, beyond the warped shreddings of his soul, Voldemort was, at the end of the day, just another man. But that is neither here nor there.

Here is Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, Elf-friend, and the one who vanquished the Dark Lord, saving Wizards and Muggles alike from his tyranny, slouched over a desk with his head balanced heavily in his hand as he stared listlessly out the enchanted window. Deep bruises hollowed the undersides of his eyes and green irises, once alight and full of laughter and wonder, were now draped in a dull film of exhaustion. His shoulders bunched up awkwardly, seemingly straining against a weight you could not see, heavy with burdens that should not be his, and a suffocating grief he made excuses for so as to claim it as his own.

He’s a talented Auror and has won numerous awards for his services, catching dark wizards and tracking rogue Death Eaters. He’s been featured multiple times in _The_ _Prophet,_ sat through dozens of interviews for varying publishers, and even allowed an aspiring journalist by the name of Effie Satin to write a biography on his life. But those are only of the highlights of his career. What they don’t tell you about fame is, no matter what path you take to get there, it’s always messy, tiring, and, more often than not, guilt-ridden.

Harry was tired of guilt. He really was. He was tired of people risking their lives for him, only to get jinxed or even fatally wounded on his account. He was tired of others asking to help because they couldn’t help him. And he was tired of all his efforts feeling like they’re done in vain. No matter what he did, who he caught and had thrown into Azkaban, or how many lives he saved, the number of deaths never seemed to go down. He can never save as many lives as he wants, and this fact is only worsened when he fails to save a child or the parents of an only child, and has to write a report on how the child died or what orphanage the child was sent off to. There’s always something that isn’t right, no matter how well a job goes, it’s never perfect. It’s never enough to compensate for the guilt he obtained when other people risked their lives for him and lost them.

The war hadn’t made him cold or callous. If anything, he became more sensitive to those around him, tender, and soft to their own pain or grief. This, however, left him more susceptible to his own, and he struggled to cope with it while portraying a happy exterior for his friends and family. He’d never been a very good actor, however, and after a while, he was confronted by Hermione. When she could not get through to him, she went to Ginny, his wife, but even she couldn’t bring him to be honest with her.

This, unfortunately, had led to them arguing more, and once during the summer, after a row so bad that it had Harry covered in pine-scented soap bubbles and trying to dispel a Bat-Bogey hex, Ginny had left for Quidditch practice and not come back for two weeks. When she had, she'd given him the cold shoulder until he apologized, but when he still didn't divulge his worries to her, she had shrugged noncommittally and turned away with a clenched jaw. Communication between them began to plummet, the air at the house became thicker over the passing year, and finally, when Harry had come home after a very hard, stressful case to find a very angry Ginny pacing the house, he can’t say he honestly didn’t see the row coming. They had both said a lot of less-than-pleasant things that had been building up for a while, Lily had broken into tears and run up to her room, and when silence finally fell, it hung in the air like the thick smog of a busy city where everyone is only looking after themselves.

Ginny had then packed a bag with all her Quidditch things and a few, more personal items, and left. Not even Hermione or Ron or even Mrs. Weasley were able to smooth things over with them, and a week later, Harry received an owl with a request for a divorce.

That was almost a year ago, now. Harry had been given custody of all three of their children so that Ginny could focus solely on Quidditch. But with his work as an auror keeping him away for days, sometimes weeks, at a time, that left Lily to stay with Ron and Hermione while James and Albus were at school.

But again, that is neither here nor there.

An interdepartmental memo flew into the room, the paper making a light, whispery noise, and it flutters to Harry’s cubical and lands with an anti-climactic flop on his desk. It unfolds itself, and Harry pulls his gaze from the window to read the words splayed before him. It’s a request for a case, a rogue Death Eater that had been discovered when his house was raided two days prior and had been on the run ever since. It seemed like a simple mission, really. Find and retrieve, which would no doubt be followed by a boring court hearing before throwing them in Azkaban and leaving Harry with three pounds of paperwork. He browsed the details and found he was partnered with a name he wasn’t familiar with. He knew just about everyone in his department after over a decade of working, so he squinted at the name for a moment.

“Got another job, Harry?” Came a voice to his left, and he looks over to see his neighbor, Alfred Gardner, looking over from the other cubicle. He was a little younger than Harry, being only thirty-two and with shaggy, light-brown hair that never looked combed.

“Yeah, another rogue Death Eater they want me to find,” he replied, looking back at the paper. “You’d think they’d find someone else who wanted some glory for helping eradicate Voldemort’s followers.” He flipped it to the back as if the answers would be on there, but it was blank. He tossed it back on the desk with a sigh, “They partnered me up with someone I don’t even know, as well. I don’t know why they couldn’t have given me Roots or Balton.”

“Roots is up in Romania trackin’ someone who’s been stealing dragon eggs for the black market,” replied Alfred, whose eyes lazily browsed Harry’s messy cubicle. “And Balton is still undercover in Durham.” Harry sighed again and Alfred raised a brow at him, “Who they partner you with, anyways?”

“Woman by the name of Clarice Arradion,” he said.

“Clarice? She’s one of the new Aurors. Just got her license, if I’m not mistaken.” Alfred hummed in thought, “We must be really short staffed if they gave you a newbie. That, or the job is a breeze and they want to start her off easy.”

“I haven’t had an easy case since I started, so this is gunna be a rude awakening for her.” This made Alfred laughed and he disappeared back into his own cubicle while Harry wrote an acceptance reply and sent it on its way.

Later that day, the head of the Auror office, Bran Baxter, came in with who Harry could only guess was Clarice, and properly introduced them. She was a rather short girl with handfuls of cheeks and long, auburn hair that was pulled back in a plaited braid. She reminded him terribly of Ginny and he had to force his smile so as not to appear rude. She seemed star-struck when she shook his hand, but managed to actually straighten her shoulders and smile when he said he hoped she did well, as if trying to prove she would.

Four hours later, Harry and Clarice walked out of the Leaky Cauldron and moved to a shadowed alley, where he helped her side-along apparate to their destination. Harry had spent the past three hours tracing the path of the Death Eater from clues, finally narrowing their area to a small town in Perthshire county. He had asked Clarice to wear muggle clothes, as it was a muggle-centric area and it also helped them stay undetected by the Death Eater. Years of tracking dark wizards had made this a simple task and the reason why it had only taken him a few hours compared to a couple of days.

They crossed through the town, its buildings draped in soft shadows from the oncoming twilight, the streets illuminated by street lamps and window displays. Harry walked casually along the sidewalk, hands loosely tucked in his front pockets of his pants, his wand in a back pocket and covered by his sweater. Clarice was following close behind in leggings and a hoodie, her hands hidden in her belly pocket with her wand. They walked for a ways, past several thrift stores and small antique shops, until they came to a small pub. Harry held the door open for Clarice, who thanked him as she slipped by. The place wasn’t too full, only a few people spread around. There was a darker presence towards the back, and without even looking, Harry could sense the light magic surrounding the man. There was probably a _muffliato_ and _repello_ _muggleton_ charm combo around him so that he would be left undisturbed and unnoticed.

“Oi, no underage folk in ‘ere, please,” a gruff voice called over and Harry looked to see the Bartender staring at them with a crooked frown.

“Sorry, sir, this is my daughter,” Harry lied calmly, smiling a bit as he put an arm around Clarice’s shoulders, who smiled instinctively. “She’s just my designated driver.”

The bartender narrowed his eyes but then waved them off, “Alrigh’, fine. Take a seat anywhere ya like.” Harry nodded in thanks and moved them over to a booth in one of the more well-lit areas, though still a fair distance away from their target. He sat with him in his blind spot, but Harry didn’t need to see his target to know he’s there. Clarice sat across from him and within seconds, a pretty waitress came over to take their order.

“I’d like a Jack Daniel’s with a side of 7-Up and a wedge of lime, please,” he added with a small smile. She scribbled down his order after checking his muggle I.D. and turned to Clarice, who just ordered a coke.

“So, Mr. Potter-” Clarice started softly before Harry cut in.

“You can just call me Harry.”

She giggled and absently moved to tuck a hair behind her ear, even though her hair was still nicely braided back, “So, Harry. Is our query here?”

Harry nodded, “Before I tell you which one, I want you to tell me if you can sense where he is without looking.”

Clarice blinked in surprise, “Without looking?”

“That’s right. Alfred told me you just got your license, so I’d like to see exactly what you can do. Trained witches and wizards should be able to sense residual magic or even active magic from a certain distance away.”

Clarice nodded, “Alright.” There was a moment of silence while she pretended to observe the poster on the wall next to their booth before she narrowed her eyes a bit, “Is he sitting in the back?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry said. “Where, though?”

She narrowed her eyes some more, mouth pinched in concentration, “By… by the poster of the blonde lady. He’s got… muffliato and… repello muggleton charms around him.”

“Very good,” Harry praised, and she looked back at him with a shy smile. “There’s another charm under those, can you tell what it is?” She blinked and seemed to be searching his face, though he could see her mind was elsewhere. When she shook her head he said: “That’s alright, it’s hard to tell too many layers apart without practice. He’s also got a Protego shield charm under those two, so even if a wizard comes in here and attacks him, he’ll already have a shield up.”

Clarice huffed and grumbled, “Dark wizards are clever.”

Harry smiled at her, “They have to be to avoid getting sent to Azkaban. Our job is being more clever so that we can catch them. Hopefully without hurting anyone else, especially muggles.”

“So how are we gunna catch him if he’s covered in protective enchantments?” Clarice asked. Harry was about to answer but saw their waitress coming back over with their drinks. He thanked her politely and she beamed at him before walking away.

“We’re going to wait him out,” Harry replied, adding some soda to his drink and taking a sip. “It looks as though he’s been here a while, so he’ll probably want to clear off soon. I don’t think he knows we’re wizards, either, but let’s be careful anyways. Constant vigilance.” Clarice nodded.

So they waited. Harry finished his drink and ordered another, as did Clarice, and they whittled away the time making mundane small-talk. After about fifteen minutes, the wizard stood up and the enchantments around him broke. Harry, sensing the disappearance of the charms, kept his eyes on Clarice, who did the same so as not to seem suspicious.

Just as the wizard reached the door, however, he reached into his pocket and drew his wand.

Harry barely managed to shout “Get down!” duck out of the way right as the other wizard whipped around and fired off a curse. Harry barely managed to dodge the curse, and it ricocheted off the wall and scorched the floor. Harry shot out from under their table to another booth, trying to hit the wizard with a _Stupefy_ spell. He missed by a hair's breadth and looked over the edge of the booth to see the dark wizard trying to get out the door, but stuck as he had forgotten it opened inwards and he was trying to push it open. The wizard dove behind the bar counter, sending the bartender and two waitresses scurrying out of the way. Clarice popped up behind her booth just as the other wizard did, but unfortunately, both spells missed their targets, and she ducked out of sight again.

Harry rolled out of his booth and shot another _Stupefy_ spell, this one hitting a group of bottles, causing them to explode. Glass and alcohol flew everywhere, the sound like a rapidly echoing gunshot. Harry felt a shard of glass cut his cheek and shoulder, but he shouted _“Defodio!”_ at the wizard, who shouted _“Protego!”_ just in time. The curse rebounded and Harry barely managed to dive out of the way again.

“Is this all the great Harry Potter has to offer?” The dark wizard cackled from his hiding place. “A few, poorly-aimed spells and an acrobatic performance?”

Harry’s lip curled bitterly. His options were limited as is since there were still muggles in the bar, hiding in their own booths from the fight, and their space was constricted since the pub was tiny. He heard the other dark wizard shift, as though to make for the door, and Harry shot up just as they made a break for it, yelling, _“Petrificus Totalus!”_ The wizard’s body went rigid, limbs snapping together, and he fell flat on the floor mere inches from the door. Harry’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest and he tentatively stood from his hiding spot.

“Well, that could have gone better. Though you did throw a few good spells at him, Clarice.” When he got no response, he looked around the wreckage of the room and saw part of her leg sticking out from under a table that had been reduced to splinters.

Harry muttered foul words under his breath as flashbacks to Fred buried in rubble raced before his eyes. Images of Remus and Tonks lying still in death on stretchers next to each other draped over his mind, as he hurried over and started trying to unbury his partner. Splinters dug into his hand and sliced at his fingers but he didn’t care, and after a few moments, managed to get Clarice out of the rubble. She had several small chunks of wood embedded in her arm, and there was a severe gouge across her shoulder and chest that was bleeding profusely. It was no doubt the work of the gouging curse he had fired that had been deflected. He thought it had hit the wall but apparently, some part of it had also hit his partner. She lay still and pale, eyes shut and her breathing almost indiscernible.

Harry felt numb but managed to grab his wand and muttered the incantation to summon medics. Within moments, two healers from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries apparated into the bar. One immediately started tending to Clarice while the other tried to check on Harry, who waved him off. Harry then sent a summons for prisoner retrieval. Baxter came in, along with Alfred who set to work properly restraining the rogue wizard, and someone from the Obliviation Headquarters to deal with the muggles who had witnessed the event.

“Potter,” said Baxter, beaming at him as he approached and clapped Harry on the back hard enough to make his stomach lurch. “Good job, sir! You caught the wizard in almost record time! Honestly, I think you have enough awards already, haha!”

“Yes, sir,” Harry mumbled. The ghosts of those flashbacks from earlier were still drifting in his vision, and he could see the two healers from St. Mungo’s pulling pieces of wood from his partner and staunching the heavy bleeding he had caused with his curse. His stomach did another flop of warning. His voice felt somehow disconnected from him as he said, “Sir, can I give you a report later? I have something to attend to as soon as possible.”

“Of course, my dear man, of course!” Baxter replied absently, stroking his impressive mustache as he watched Alfred finish tying up the rogue wizard. “I’ll see you back at the office, then.” Harry mumbled thanks and ducked past him, trying hard not to look back at Clarice, and slipped out the door past Alfred without returning his wave. He walked some ways down the street, turned down an alley, and disapparated with a crack.

He stepped out of the suffocating tightness of disapparating into the Forest of Dean, where he knew for sure that he would be absolutely alone, with nobody around for miles and miles. It was drastically different than the last time he was here, seeing as all the snow was gone, and he was surrounded by deep shades of green and brown. He took two steps, clutched a nearby tree as his head swam, then dropped to his knees as his stomach decided it had had enough and he vomited promptly all over the ground. Shock made his skin cold and he shivered violently, trying to gulp air as he finally stopped throwing up. His hands were sweaty on the rough bark and dry grass, and he let himself lean against the tree for support.

He had let Clarice get hurt. Even worse, he had let her get hurt with his own rebounded curse. She was so young, having just got her Auror’s License. She still had so much to live for, and he had almost ended it all for her in one misfired curse. Everything he’d been suppressing for years, ever since Sirius’ death in the Department of Mysteries, suddenly came bubbling up in an overwhelming tide that he finds himself drowning in. The scene of the battle sparked in his vision, mixed with memories of the battle of Hogwarts nearly nineteen years ago now. He could almost see Clarice’s body lying next to Fred’s in the rubble, and the thought had him dry-heaving into the dirt again.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there, leaning against the tree. Night fell and the sky filled with dazzling hues of navy and purple, embroidered with stars. Shadows cocooned the trees and bushes and Harry stared unseeingly into the damp air. In the distance, a little ball of blue light appeared and seemed to be growing bright, hurtling fast towards him. He knew what it was, so he waited, unmoving, for it to land in front of him.

An energetic Jack Russell Terrier reformed out of the ball of light when it landed, running in circles as a familiar voice of his best friend, Ron, echoed out of it, “Heard about the case. Let us know if you’re okay.”

Something about hearing Ron’s voice finally dragged him out of the weird mental limbo he’d been in, and he blinked his eyes a few times as the Terrier jumped onto his leg and melted away. He finally looked up and noticed how late it was. The smell of his own sick hung heavy in the air next to him and he wrinkled his nose, turning his face away. Slowly, he managed to push himself onto his knees, using the tree he’d been leaning against for support as he stood. His wand was still in his hand after all this time, so he took a few steps away from the tree, took a slow, deep breath, and disapparated.

He apparated just down the road from his house, at the usual spot between two dark trees. The walk was short, but it felt like a mile, and when he finally reached the front door of his house, he was panting softly. His hand shook as he turned the door handle, but mainly from exhaustion than fear or apprehension. His entry-way was empty, but as he closed the door, he heard hurried footsteps, and Lily appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Dad!” She cheered and hurried down the stairs, nearly jumping into his arms. If he hadn’t had the door behind him to brace himself, he would have fallen over.

“Woah! Easy there, Lily,” he said with a tired smile. “Dad’s pretty tired.”

“Harry? Is that you?” Came another familiar voice from the living room, but this time he was not glad to hear it. He adjusted Lily on his hip and walked slowly down the hall, turning to see not just Hermione sitting at the table and Ron standing behind her, but Ginny standing by the hearth. He had not seen Ginny since they finalized their divorce, and while he had found himself struggling to keep up with his day-to-day life, Ginny looked as she had the day she left him - strong, well-groomed, with a storm hidden in her eyes just waiting for the first opportunity to be released.

“Well?” She said quietly, in a tone of foreboding he knew all too well. He felt Lily clutch around his neck a little tighter.

“Well, what?” He replied tiredly, and he saw her jaw clench.

“Well, where have you been?” Ginny snapped.

“Ginny-” Ron tried to say, but she interrupted him.

“You stay out of this,” she hissed before turning back to Harry. “You finished that case hours ago and were supposed to come back to take care of Lily, but then we hear you went and disapparated to who knows where! You didn’t even tell any of us where you were going! Do you even care about any of us anymore-”

“Stop it,” he snarled back at her, “Stop, I hate it when you do that. You take a situation and find all the bad things about it and blame them on me.” He jerked his head at Ron, “Ron was here when I went to work to take care of Lily since it was his day off and he offered. He was supposed to stay with Lily until I got back.”

“But you didn’t come back! You went off somewhere for hours! We had no idea where you were or if you were hurt-”

“And what do you care?” He snapped back at her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve tried to curse me in just about every argument we’ve had, whereas I’ve never once lifted my wand to defend myself. That’s always your answer, isn’t it? Cursing someone who doesn’t agree with you or gets on your nerves? Wouldn’t really matter if I was hurt, to you, would it?”

“That’s not true-”

“Of course it is!” Harry could feel anger trying to claw its way to the front past exhaustion and stress, and he struggled to keep it controlled. “You hexed me so that every time I tried to drink water it turned to soap in my mouth because I said something you didn’t like! You made it so that every tie I tried to put on tried to strangle me! You divorced me and forced custody of our kids on me for _Quidditch!”_

“That’s enough!” Hermione cried, pointing her wand at Harry and Ginny in turn, _“Silencio!”_ Harry opened his mouth to snap at her but no sound came out, so he settled for glowering at her from behind his glasses as Ginny crossed her arms angrily. “Honestly, this is getting us nowhere.”

“I don’t know, it was nice to hear them talk about their feelings for once,” said Ron sarcastically, earning him a heated glare from both Harry and Ginny.

“Both of you are going to keep your anger under control. You are adults, not third years arguing over potions ingredients,” Hermione said, pointing her wand at Harry and releasing the silencing charm on him, but he didn’t speak for until she said “Harry, what happened earlier with the case? They said you had something to take care of and would give a report when you got back, then you disapparated.”

Harry was silent for a moment longer, then he gently put Lily down and softly told her to go to her room, promising her there wouldn’t be any more yelling. Then he turned back to Hermione and Ron, pointedly ignoring Ginny silently glaring at him.

“Did either of you get any details about the scene or my partner?” He asked slowly.

“All I got was a second-hand report that said the rogue wizard had been captured and your partner had been transferred to St. Mungo’s for some injuries,” Hermione replied. “She’s fine, by the way. They said she’ll make a full recovery with minimal scarring. I called to check. But they wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened to her.”

Harry looked at them and then slowly recounted what happened, “We were at the pub I’d tracked the rogue wizard to, trying to pretend we were muggles there for a quick night out. He noticed we weren’t muggles and started attacking. After a few minutes of back and forth stunning spells, I shot a gouging curse at his wand arm hoping to incapacitate it, but he used a shield charm and my curse rebounded.” Hermione’s eyes widened and Ron’s grip on her chair tightened. “It missed me but hit Clarice, my partner. I managed to hit the wizard with a body freezing spell and when I turned back to Clarice, she was under what was left of our table. Her arm embedded with chunks of wood, and a huge laceration over her shoulder and chest from my… my curse.” He paused for a moment to swallow the lump in his throat, and thankfully no one tried to interject. “I unburied her from the rubble and summoned a couple of healers, but I kept having flashbacks to the battle of Hogwarts. Remus and Tonks dead next to each other on stretchers, Fred crushed to death under the collapsed ceiling. It was… more than I could handle, so I made a flimsy excuse to leave and disapparated to a secluded spot to… sort myself out.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said quietly, though she stayed where she was. After years of knowing Harry, she knew better than to try and touch him when he was under emotional strain.

“I don’t know, I just needed to be alone. I knew Ron was taking care of Lily so I had a little bit of time to myself. I just didn’t realize how long I’d been gone.”

A silence stretched between them, and it wasn’t until Ginny spoke that Harry remembered she was there and that Hermione had taken the silencing charm off her, “So what are you going to do now?” Harry turned to look at her, and for once her eyes were not a thunderous cloud ready to strike him down. They were calm, a steady lapping of waves on the beach as the tide slowly came back in.

Harry swallowed thickly as he looked away again, "I don't know." 

There was another silence before Hermione said, quietly, "You could retire." Harry closed his eyes and tried not to groan, but some low sound came out of his throat anyways. "Harry, it's perfectly simple-"

"Hermione, this is not simple," he replied, his jaw aching from the effort of not grinding his teeth together in agitation. "It has never been simple!"

"Well, you're not getting any younger," Ron interjected. "Especially not when you're hunting down dark wizards day in and day out."

"And exactly what am I supposed to do with my time then?" He narrowed his eyes at Ron, who only stood a little straighter and held his gaze. "Write my autobiography on what a terrible excuse for an Auror I am because I can't save enough people or because I nearly got a new Auror killed on her first case? Oh yes, " he added with an eye-roll. "That'll make for a _riveting_ chapter."

"Harry, you don't have to do everything alone," Hermione chimed in patiently, the kind of patience one only gets from having to deal with bratty children and rude, whiny adults for over a decade. "You don't have anything to prove. Everyone knows you _had_ to disappear to hunt Horcruxes so you could kill Voldemort. You didn't have a choice."

"I just..." Harry starts, but falls silent. He runs a hand over his face and through his unkempt hair, feels the dried blood under his palm from the cut on his cheek, and the tiny bits of debris clinging to his hair. He knows they want him to quit, but he knows they'll just convince him to do what's right for him, even if it's not what they want. They probably want him to stay an Auror, to keep working towards a brighter future, and to climb out of the hellhole he jumped into headfirst years ago. Still, he can feel his back and legs aching, his arms tired, and a migraine starting to pound steadily against his temple, He was simply tired; not just physically, no, but also mentally and emotionally. He was tired of always putting others before himself. He was tired of trying to save every last person and failing half the time. He was tired of seeing children ripped from their parents' bodies, or parents crying over their dead children. He was just tired of it all.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"Fine," he says with a voice that almost doesn't sound like his own. "I'll retire."

Silence. Harry was immediately filled with thoughts of letting them down, that he had disappointed them with his weakness and his exhaustion. That he was a disgrace to the name of Auror because he wanted to quit just because he’d finally let it all get to him. He expected yelling, outrage, a scandalous gasp from Hermione at least, but he got none of them. When he looked back at them, he was surprised at what he found.

Hermione was beaming with pride and Ron seemed relieved, which was odd. The thing that caught him off-guard the most was the bold approval in Ginny’s face.

Ron’s the first to break the silence, “Good choice, mate.”

Harry blinked owlishly at him, “It is?”

Ron shrugged, “‘Course it is.”

“We could all see how badly this job’s been affecting you,” added Hermione. “Especially lately.”

“We may not see each other as much,” Ron continued, grinning. “But you’re still a terrible actor. I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately? Someone do a bag check on Harry’s eyes.”

Harry laughed, really laughed, at that. It was such a huge relief that he hadn’t let any of them down with this decision - a relief he hadn’t known he needed. It was if a pair of hands that had been pressing down on his shoulders for the past few years had suddenly let go. Hermione and Ron smiled at him, as if they were all back at Hogwarts and they’d just managed to cheer him up after a particularly bad Quidditch practice. His laughter tapers off when Ginny stands and walks over to him, but before he can ask when she’s doing, she pulls him towards her into a hug.

Harry’s stunned for a moment, and he can see Ron gaping at her back with Hermione almost smiling knowingly. Then, when he collects himself, he hugs her lightly back. This seemed to satisfy her, so she released her hold and gave him a few smarting pats on the cheek.

“I’m going to go say goodbye to Lily. I have Quidditch practice early tomorrow.” She paused and added softly, “You won’t mind if I try to visit more often, do you?”

“‘Course not,” He said, and she gave him a fleeting smile and then left the room.

“Not gunna go after her?” Ron asked after Ginny's footsteps had disappeared upstairs.

“We’re already divorced, Ron,” Harry said a little distantly.

“Oh, right.”

“Still,” Hermione slid in, “It’d be good for her to to see the kids more. She’s missed them.”

“Didn’t miss them too much when she walked out on me and didn’t look back,” Harry replied a little flatly, moving to sit in one of the lounge chairs by the hearth. Hermione winced and opened her mouth to try and recover, but Ron just put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. Harry collapsed into the chair with a heavy sigh, hearing Ginny come back down the stairs. She came back to say goodbye to them, her and Harry exchanging a nod, and then she left.

Hermione stood and came over to Harry, looking over the wounds from the battle he’d refused to let the healer see. They were covered in dried blood, a thin line frozen on his cheek from the cut he’d received from the broken glass. Ron moved to make some tea while Hermione helped clean Harry up since mending wounds was never his strong point, and after a while, Lily came down and shared some of the stories Uncle Ron had told her that day.

Two days later, Harry had filed a report on the rogue wizard, as well as do all the paperwork required to retire. Baxter had practically begged for him to stay, but Harry’s decision was final. Reluctantly, he accepted Harry’s resignation, insisting that he attend a small party with their colleagues to see him off. It had been nice, being able to see everybody one last time without their lives being in danger. Naturally, because of their jobs out in the field, some of them couldn’t make it, but that was alright with Harry.

He handed in his badge the following day, collected his payment for the last job, and went home to a very happy Lily. She was pleased he was spending so much time with her now since it was her last year before she went away to Hogwarts. Harry still felt lost, especially now that he wasn’t an Auror anymore. He spent his days teaching Lily simple spells she could dazzle the other students with once she got her wand and went to Hogwarts. She seemed happier to dance through the colorful bubbles he produced from his wand, however.

He even started writing Albus and James more, asking how their lessons were going, what kind of mischief they were getting into, and if they needed advice or help with any of their homework. James sent him a reply towards the end term saying that Hogwarts was still struggling to find a permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, complaining about how their current teacher mainly lectured them like Professor Binns did in History of Magic. It made Harry chuckle and remember with a slight fondness all the doodle competitions with Ron during those same lectures, with Hermione casting them disapproving glares all the while. The next time Hermione and Ron came over for dinner, he mentioned it to them offhandedly while they were having evening tea.

“Harry,” Hermione said, trying to get his attention. “Harry, you should apply!”

“What?” Harry looked back at her, taken aback. “Why?”

“Oh come off it, mate,” Ron said with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t you remember when we first started Dumbledore’s Army? You were actually a really good teacher.”

“Yes, exactly, and we all saw how much you loved teaching us,” Hermione added. She huffed when Harry rolled his eyes, “Come on Harry, you’d be a great Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!”

“Can’t be any worse than Lockhart,” Ron said into his cup, but it still made Harry snort.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, swirling the contents of his cup. “If I do, I’ll wait until this summer. It’s Lily’s last before she starts going to Hogwarts.”

Hermione hummed her approval and then Ron changed the subject to how business was going for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Harry looked at the tea leaves sitting clumped on the bottom of his cup, and could have sworn he saw a wonky sun shape next to a cross. If there was one thing he had unwillingly remembered from third-year divination, it was tessomancy. He only prayed he got the happiness after the trials and suffering, and not before.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something to get me back in the groove of writing and, since I recently got back into Harry Potter (and when I say "got back into" I mean I binge-read all 7 books over 2 weeks and then screamed over how inaccurate all the movies were while I rewatched them) SO I decided to start this. 
> 
> This is a collab between myself and my GF, who actually came up with most of the groundwork for this fic and also is the one who motivated me to write again after a big fat case of writer's block. 
> 
> There is no set schedule for this fic and I'm posting it right before my (hopefully) final semester at college bc I'm an idiot and writer's block is a bitch. Cheers to actually keeping up with a fic for once~


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